| Padraig J. Daly -Complaint- |
| Wednesday, January 25, 2006 |
Complaint
Padraig J. Daly (Ireland, 1943- )
I will tell you, Sir, about a woman of yours,
Who suddenly had all her trust removed
And turned to the wall and died.
I remember how she would sing of your love,
Rejoice in your tiniest favour;
The scented jonquils,
The flowering currant bush,
The wet clay
Spoke to her unerringly of benevolence.
I remind you, Sir, of how, brought low,
She cowered like a tinker's dog,
Her hope gone, her skin loose around her bones.
Where were you, Sir, when she called out to you?
And where was the love that height nor depth
Nor any mortal thing can overcome?
Does it please you, Sir, that your people's voice
Is the voice of the hare torn between the hounds?
Queja
Te contaré, Señor, de una mujer tuya,
cuya fe se vio, de pronto, conmovida
y volviendo el rostro a la pared, murió.
Recuerdo cómo cantaba de tu amor,
regocijándose en tus minúsculos dones;
los junquillos perfumados,
las matas de grosellas en flor,
la tierra húmeda
le hablaban inequívocamente de Tu benevolencia.
Te recuerdo, Señor, cómo, abatida,
se contrajo como el perro de un gitano,
su esperanza ida, la piel floja alrededor de los huesos.
¿Dónde estabas, Señor, cuando ella te llamó?`
¿Y dónde estaba el amor que la profundidad ni la altura
ni ninguna cosa mortal pueden superar?
¿Te complace, Señor, que la voz de tu gente
sea la voz de la liebre desgarrada por los sabuesos?Labels: Padraig J. Daly |
posted by Alfil @ 6:17 PM  |
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